


A Slow Day

by daniellalovestowrite



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: If | Fire Emblem: Fates
Genre: F/M, Kissing, Love, Short & Sweet, Sweet, True Love, Vanilla, Vanilla Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-19
Updated: 2016-06-19
Packaged: 2018-07-16 01:05:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,914
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7246018
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/daniellalovestowrite/pseuds/daniellalovestowrite
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A SUPER SWEET ONE-SHOT. Xander is busy with his princely duties, and a very pregnant Corrin is faced with her own issues.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Slow Day

**Author's Note:**

> Dedicated to Clarissa from Twitter. Thanks for persuading me to write a Xander-Corrin fanfic. I had a lot of fun writing this!

  
“How are the preparations for the Winter Assembly coming along? Have the invitations been sent out yet?” Xander asked without taking his attention away from the piece of parchment on his table. A series of figures were scribbled on it in his steward’s fine, elegant handwriting, but no matter how aesthetically pleasing they were, they still didn’t tally.  
  
Leaning back on the blue velvet chair he was sitting on, Xander pressed his thumbs against his pounding temples. It has been a full ten minutes since he started on this task, yet he was still nowhere near to figuring out where the discrepancy lay.  
  
“Yes, milord. I have given the invitations to our emissaries, and they have set out to their assigned kingdoms earlier today. Oh, and, er, Peri has also taken the initiative to decorate the castle,” came Laslow’s distracted reply.  
  
Piqued at Laslow’s preoccupied tone, Xander looked up to see his retainer poring over what appeared to be a long letter. It bore the crest of the Kingdom of Izumo. “A message from the Archduke?”  
  
“More like a tirade,” Laslow chuckled, handing the letter to Xander. “Archduke Izana is inviting all the royals of Nohr for a ‘meeting of utmost importance,’ as he calls it. It is to be held in his castle in a fortnight upon your acceptance of his invitation.”  
  
“Why? Is there a war? A civil unrest?” Xander quickly scanned the document for any mention of chaos. He found none.  
  
“I’m afraid the situation is not as dire as that, milord. He simply wants to garner our support for his petition to recount the votes for the Best Hair award. As you may have known, he lost the contest this year, and I see he is not taking it so well.”  
  
No, in fact, Xander did _not_ know that. He barely has time to sleep these past few weeks, much less listen to the latest gossip. The mountains of workload that had piled up when he and Corrin were on their honeymoon months ago had appeared to take a life of their own and had started reproducing—events he needed to attend, trading agreements to arrange, documents to fill up, letters to write, renovations to start, citizens to cater to. Things have gotten to a point that whenever he finished one task, he found himself faced with two or three more.  
  
This seemingly never-ending cycle has forced him to wake up at ungodly hours just to get things done. It was only fortunate that Corrin was such a deep sleeper, so she was never bothered by him shuffling out of bed so early in the morning.  
  
_I just miss being the first thing she sees when she wakes up. But there is no point sulking over something that cannot be helped, is there?_  
  
“So, who was the winner? I believe the Archduke failed to indicate who it was. Or at least, I didn’t see any mention of it in the missive.”  
  
Laslow beamed. “Hoshido’s very own Prince Ryoma.”  
  
“Ah.” Fighting back an uncharacteristic smirk, he placed the letter on the table, next to the ones that he hasn’t read yet. “I’ll write a reply tonight, after I talk to Camilla and the others. Perhaps I can persuade one of them to attend for—“  
  
A knock on the door interrupted him. Anticipating who it was, Xander raised himself up from his seat immediately, his chair nearly toppling over from the force.  
  
“Milord, let me—“ Laslow began.  
  
“No, I’ll get it,” Xander interjected as he hurried to open the door, which revealed a distraught looking Felicia. The sight of her, pale and trembling like a chamber mouse, instantly filled him with dread.  
  
_Corrin!_  
  
“What’s wrong, Felicia? Did something happen to my wife?!” Xander practically bellowed, making the young woman tremble even more.  
  
“I—I’m sorry, Lord Xander, I d-don’t know,” she stammered. “Sh-she was crying when I came inside her room, and I-I thought I sh-should report to you as usual so—“  
  
Xander was out of his study before Felicia could finish.  
  
On normal days, the long path from his study in the West Wing to the master’s bedchamber in the East Wing provided a brief respite from his busy schedule, an opportunity to stretch his legs and stop thinking about his duties. Now, however, the only thing it offered was pure torture.  
  
His heart pounded against his ribcage, his breath lodged painfully in his throat. And yet he still continued his merciless sprint to the bedchamber he shared with Corrin, dodging people along the way as he prayed to all the divine dragons and gods he knew to ensure the safety of his wife and unborn child.  
  
_Finally!_  
  
He had never been so relieved to see the wide arched door that led to his bedchamber. Reaching it in a few urgent strides, he turned the gold door knob, his grip made clumsy by panic, and sure enough, he was greeted by the distressing image of his wife crying near the edge of their king-sized canopy bed.  
  
He was able to close the door and go to her side in a matter of seconds, before she could even detect him entering the room.  
  
“Corrin,” Xander managed to say above the slight wheezing in his breath. He then gathered her gently against him, mindful of her condition, and wrapped her with arms ready to shield her from all the ills of the world. “Little princess, tell me what’s wrong. Are you in pain? Is it the baby?”  
  
“Nothing’s wrong.” Corrin sniffed, and buried herself further in his embrace. She mumbled against his chest, “I-I’m physically fine. And the baby’s fine. It’s just— I just—”  
  
She broke off, bursting into tears. The small amount of reassurance that Xander had felt when she said that there was nothing physically wrong with her and the baby completely vanished as she cried.  
  
Gods. He had never felt so useless his entire life. “Are you sure you’re not in pain? I can ask for the physician, and I’m certain he can help you with whatever you’re experiencing.”  
  
Corrin nodded, but said nothing else. Whether that nod meant that she was not in pain, or that he should call the physician, Xander had no clue.  
  
“Please, I beg you, look at me, Corrin. Tell me what’s wrong.”  
  
“I don’t want to. I-I look ugly,” was her muffled reply.  
  
_Ugly?_ “Did someone say that? Did someone dare criticise you?” He asked in a steely voice. The very thought of it, the mere possibility of someone insulting his wife— _his princess_ —made him quiver with rage, causing him to subconsciously tighten his hold on her. “Name the person, and I shall make sure that punishment will be swift. Such slander is not tolerated by Nohrian laws.”  
  
It was especially not tolerated by him. Xander was ready to fight tooth and nail to defend his love’s honour.  
  
Corrin hastily raised her head, her expression aghast. “What? No! No one insulted me, I swear.”  
  
“Then, why are you crying? Corrin, you only have to tell me and I promise I shall resolve it. Whatever it is, I will help you. Just tell me what happened.” The desperation was apparent in his voice.  
  
“I’m sorry, Xander. I’m really sorry if I alarmed you.” She hiccuped. “But I— You see, I was trying my clothes earlier—you know, the ones you had tailored for me a week ago—and—and they don’t fit anymore.”  
  
He paused. “Er, I can always have new ones made for you.”  
  
Sighing, Corrin broke from his embrace and shifted away. “That’s not it, Xander. Look at me. My stomach is enormous, my arms and thighs are already two sizes bigger, my breasts are too plump, and my ankles are swollen. I’m fat and ugly.” Fresh tears were welling in her eyes.  
  
Xander was at a loss for words. The things she said were so ludicrous, and so far from the truth, that he needed to make sure he actually heard her correctly.  
  
“Good gods, Corrin, the things you do to me,” he groaned and then bent down to kiss her.  
  
He allowed himself to explore her mouth for a few minutes, tasting her with the thirst of a man who hasn’t lain with his wife for months, before pulling back.  
  
“Corrin, you are not fat. You are carrying my child. Our child.” He placed his palms on her enlarged stomach, the sight of his seed taking root inside her making his voice waver with emotion. “This baby is the future of our kingdom. And most importantly, he or she is the proof of our love for each other. This has always been my greatest dream, Corrin. To build a family with you. To have children with your beautiful eyes,”—he leaned down again to press a kiss on both her eyelids—“your breathtaking smile,”—on her lips—“your cute, asymmetrical ears”—and on her earlobes. He pressed his forehead against hers and looked deeply into her eyes. “You have made me so happy, Corrin. You have no idea how much.”  
  
“But what if I don’t get my old body back? What if I remain like this for the rest of my life?” She sniffled.  
  
He lifted his head, the edges of his mouth were curved in that rare, teasing grin that he reserved solely for her. “Oh, I intend to keep you pregnant as much as possible, so it would do you well to get used to it. If there _is_ a year in which I didn’t get you with child, it wouldn’t be for lack of trying, I assure you.”  
  
Corrin’s cheeks turned crimson. “I’m serious, Xander. What if, one day, you’ll tire of your fat and ugly wife and decide to leave?”  
  
“That’s impossible, because I have no such wife. The only wife I have—the only one I will ever have—is beautiful, kind, and strong.” Xander smiled warmly and brushed away the stray strands from her face. “Yes, she gained weight, but she had been too thin to begin with. I prefer her the way she is now. Healthier. Radiant. And swollen with my child.” He let his hand linger on her cheek. “I’ve never seen her more perfect.”  
  
Corrin was silent for a few seconds, seemingly absorbing what he just said. Then, she broke into a grin that, despite her bloodshot eyes and blotchy face, sent shivers of desire through Xander. “Thank you. And I’m sorry. I’m really sorry if I worried you. I think pregnancy has made me really emotional.”  
  
“I should be the one to apologise. Camilla had informed me about this before, but I’m afraid it slipped my mind. I’m sorry if I haven’t been here to support you emotionally. I promise you, Corrin, that will change from now on.”  
  
“No, I understand. You’ve been busy recently. And—“ Corrin gasped. “Oh, am I keeping you from your duties? Were you in the middle of something when you came here?”  
  
Gazing lovingly at her, Xander traced her lips with a finger. “No, of course not. Don’t worry, it was a  rather slow day today.”  
  
Corrin exhaled a breath of relief. “Thank goodness.”  
  
“Oh, I almost forgot to tell you. The Archduke Izana lost the Best Hair award for the first time in five years. Do you know who dethroned him?”  
  
Eyes wide, she asked, “Who?”  
  
“Your brother.”  
  
Then, Corrin laughed, and Xander couldn’t help himself. He kissed her again. And again. And again.

**Author's Note:**

> By the way, guys, pregnancy really makes the woman super emotional. Well, that's what science claims, at least. So Corrin's reaction here is quite legit.
> 
> Hope you enjoyed this fic! I liked mellowing Xander in this one. I know he's a very uptight character, but I believe that after getting married to Corrin, he'd become ~happier and more playful~. That's my analysis of him, anyway.


End file.
